


A Good Education

by karanguni



Series: A Few Good Men [1]
Category: Before Crisis: Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII
Genre: M/M, random guest appearances
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-27
Updated: 2014-05-27
Packaged: 2018-01-26 17:22:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1696328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/karanguni/pseuds/karanguni
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'This is a lesson,' Rufus told him, coolly undoing button, then zip, 'about freedom to do good. Let us begin. Once upon a time, there were five or six men who planned to bring the continent some very bright futures indeed.'</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Good Education

**Author's Note:**

> Optional soundtrack: [Moloko - Fun For Me](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EOXlJfJ-OgA)

It took the car thirty minutes to get from the lounge to the private Shinra airstrip located at the other end of Del Sol. They were an uncomfortable and loaded thirty minutes, even by Tseng's standards. He was driving. Rufus, as was his habit, was not in the back but rather in the passenger's seat.

Both their clothes stank a deep nicotine stink; the President was a man who liked to mix business and pleasure. Tseng had watched Rufus irritably brushing cigar ash off his cuffs all night; a repeated, almost hypnotic motion that occurred every time Heidegger had leaned over in an drink-infused haze to thump the young Vice-President on the back. Congratulations, Rufus. Congratulations on Junon. You'll do well there. Great parties in Junon; less hangers-on than in Midgar, you know? Great place, Junon. Great. Fantastic place to go on overseas assignments.

President Shinra was a much underestimated man, in Tseng's opinion. The old man could spin audience-friendly story lines out of bare ether; they were never quite lies, just better-sounding and slightly bent truths. The President had never  _asked_ his son why Rufus had attempted such dramatic and ambitious rebellion against his own father. That would have been too proletarian in nature, or something too like what the average petty bourgeois family ready to embark on therapy would do. Like a real aristocrat, President Shinra had bought out the entire lounge at Del Sol's most expensive hotel then ordered a modest half-dozen magnum bottles of champagne sabred open in front of Rufus, his immaculately dressed son, and declared that the Vice-President was going on assignment to Junon. There, the industrial scaffolding of today would become the engines of tomorrow! Such toasts were made.

Tseng had been impressed at the performance as he stood, a silent shadow, a polite ten feet away from the festivities and conveniently out of range as champagne neurotically erupted the moment President Shinra sat back down. Rufus had calmly wiped his face dry with a cloth napkin and pushed his sopping wet fringe out of his eyes.

The rest of the evening had proceeded as poorly as might be imagined. Rufus had sat to the right of his father, statuesque as wine was poured, women were invited to join the executive board's party, and songs played over the thundering speakers of the lounge. The dim lighting hadn't suited Rufus well, but it looked particularly garish cast on the President and Heidegger and Scarlet and company, deepening their wrinkles and highlighting the difference in age between them and the service staff. A multitude of anonymous Shinra hangers-on were seated at the other tables, and they'd applauded with marionette-like obedience after the President's speech.

As the night progressed, men with expensive leather shoes tripped against the stilettoed heels of ladies with too-perfect makeup. The lounge, reading the atmosphere with devilish acuity, had somehow conjured up some modest strobing lights, and the whole thing devolved into a grotesque carnivale of Shinra political posturing. The President had sat, as patient as his son was furious, at the head of the table and waved his hands back and forth, ordering more drinks, more food, more music, more dancing. His control was iron-wrought throughout; he barely partook of the libations that were offered to him, though Tseng had seen him casually knock a glass into Rufus' lap at some point. It was a cruel education to be witnessing.

Finally, at what was possibly the exact stroke of midnight, Rufus had pushed his chair back, nodded to his father, and said, 'I'll be taking my leave, father. I've a flight to catch if I want to be appropriately packed.'

'You can pack light,' President Shinra had responded, laconic. 'Junon won't require the sort of wardrobe that you've amassed, young man.'

Rufus had stood there, wordless in the ugly light. Tseng, by his own initiative, had stepped in, gesturing Rufus towards the VIP exit out back where their car was waiting. 'Sir,' he'd said, a small mercy that he'd been willing to offer. They'd left.

Now Rufus was in the seat next to him, ruined tie and ruined jacket and ruined shirt and all. Tseng kept his eyes on the road.

'You didn't have to rescue me back there,' Rufus said eventually, thirty minutes of time to regain both their dignities having elapsed. The airstrip was slowly coming into view.

'If I may speak frankly,' Tseng began.

'You've absolutely no reason not to,' interrupted Rufus, curt. He was wrestling his tie away from his neck with short, abusive jerks.  'After all that we've been through together saving the Turks from extinction, Tseng.' Rufus clucked his tongue disapprovingly, brutal _tsk tsk tsks_ exploding against the roof of his mouth. It made him sound far older than he was.

'It's well within your father's prerogative to send you to Junon,' Tseng said. If Rufus was angry, he had every reason to be. 'It's a strategic move.'

'Of course it's a strategic move,' Rufus snapped.

'Men don't take strategies against things that don't scare them,' Tseng finished, pulling the car through airstrip security and letting it roll on the tarmac towards the waiting plane. 

' _That's_ where you are much mistaken,' Rufus said, very clipped. He opened the car door, got out, and stripped out of his stained white jacket. Unbuttoned the cuffs of his shirts, rolled them up to the elbow, and looked for a moment like a devastated, abandoned son. Tseng blinked to clear his vision. The Vice President was there in front of him, nodding at the plane. 'Let's go.' 

Tseng followed as Rufus, bare-handed and with nothing but the shirt on his back, boarded. Rufus assumed his usual seat, lips pressed into a tight line.

Reno was in the cockpit; there was no co-pilot on short flights like these. 'Hey, boss,' he said to Tseng after Tseng had completed the necessary preflight checks. 'That took a while.'

'Understandable delays,' Tseng shrugged. 'The Vice President will be stationed in Junon starting tomorrow.'

Reno's eyes widened slightly, then narrowed. 'That's how the cookie crumbles, huh?'

'We'll get more details at Headquarters.' Tseng headed back out to the passenger area, but paused at the door to the cockpit for long enough to shut it behind him. He took the seat opposite Rufus. The plane taxied, took off, gained altitude, settled. 

'You shut the door,' observed Rufus.

'You told me earlier that I was mistaken,' Tseng replied. 'I assumed you would have words for me that the rest of Administrative Research has no need to hear.'

'You assume that we're going to _fight_ ,' Rufus said, mouth curving up in surprise. 'We're going to be that familiar with each other, are we?' Rufus laughed and stood up to head to the plane's small bar. He hadn't drunk at the lounge, but he now poured himself a generous helping of whatever poison Reno had left there. Tseng didn't bother wondering how an underaged individual who'd been the most successful double mole in Shinra history knew to drink the way Rufus did: long sips, longer exhalations, fingers loose against the lip of his glass, throat working steadily. 'What my father gave me was a dismissal, not a banishment,' Rufus said. 'You banish those you're afraid of; you dismiss those you don't care for.'

Tseng knew when to pick his battles, and this wasn't the time. He said nothing. Rufus looked down at the empty glass in his hand, then refilled it. He walked over to stand by Tseng's seat. This, too, was uncomfortable. Tseng wasn't accustomed to sitting while others stood. He could smell the second hand smoke on Rufus' shirt.

Rufus took a slow, considering sip, then spoke. 'I'm, perhaps surprisingly, a good student of history; Company history, at least. Did you know that my father had a handful of partners who helped him first establish Shinra?'

'Vice President,' Tseng said, nodding to the opposite seat. 'Please sit down.'

'They weren't bit partners, either,' Rufus continued, ignoring the suggestion. 'There was serious financial investment from all of them, but that's par for course. The real contributions they made were ones of science and engineering; three of the partners held doctorates, did you know? _Doctorates_. You couldn't find a doctorate now in the upper echelons of Shinra if you started at the top of the fucking Tower and walked into every office for twenty floors.'

'I do believe,' Tseng said mildly, 'that you're forgetting Reeve Tuesti.'

'Yes, but I do believe that _Dr._ Tuesti isn't exactly _Shinra,_ ' Rufus said savagely. 'There are certain liberties that he takes, but I'm sure you know that, much the same way I believe that you already know exactly what happened to those partners of my father's.'

Rufus finished his drink. He was partway flushed now, though Tseng would've wagered on much of it being the fault of anger. The glass Rufus put down on the small alcove against the window, then the Vice President of the Shinra Company sank slowly and deliberately to his knees in front of Tseng.

'Rufus,' Tseng said.

'Don't begin to tell me what's appropriate or inappropriate when I get the sense that Turks will be watching me literally wipe my ass every time I go to the toilet for the foreseeable future,' Rufus said pleasantly. His voice was very steady. 'Good job trying to use my first name, though; Veld certainly had you up on your psychology. How is he?'

'I wouldn't presume to tell you,' Tseng replied, deliberately refusing to let his fingers dig into the soft leather of the armrests. Rufus was casually unzipping his blazer and pushing it out of the way. 'Should I ask what you think you're doing?'

'If we're going to be friends --'

'We're never going to be able to be friends, Vice President.'

'-- or allies, if that better suits your classist view of society. If we're going to be _allies_ , Tseng, then we're going to have to empathise with each other, hm?' Rufus leaned back against his heels and looked up at Tseng. He could've been giving a boardroom presentation. 'Considering the strings I've pulled for you and your fellow Turks, I think I've fulfilled my particular side of the bargain. But I don't think that  _Administrative Research_ , as much as the name might belie, really understands what it's like being a poorly  _Vice President_.' 

Rufus jerked Tseng's belt open. Tseng grabbed his hand loosely; Rufus snapped it back and then laid Tseng's arm gently back on the seat. ' _Stay still,_ ' Rufus ordered, authority that Tseng hadn't heard since AVALANCHE fell apart clear in his voice. 'Treat this as an education of the sort my father just gave me.'

Tseng raised an eyebrow, but stayed still.

'This is a lesson,' Rufus told him, coolly undoing button, then zip, 'about freedom to do good. Let us begin. Once upon a time, there were five or six men who planned to bring the continent some very bright futures indeed.' Rufus leaned in, sticky, alcohol-matted hair falling in his face. 'They hired the right men to do the right kinds of research into natural resources; they discovered Mako and learned how to refine it, exploit it, and turn it into the most revolutionary source of energy since electricity itself was first brought under the control of man. A wonderful story, no?'

Tseng let his fingers tighten. The creaking of leather was loud in the cabin. He could feel Rufus smile.

'It went on for a while in that happy manner. The President of this company of good men married, had a son -- maybe even a son or two -- and then started thinking about the way a world powered by Mako ought to work. Should it be meritocratic? Or should it be dynastic? Stay _still_.'

Tseng exhaled through his teeth. 'My apologies, _Vice President Shinra_ , but I wasn't sure if the story you're telling involves audience participation.'

Rufus laughed. Tseng could now smell the scotch on his breath. Rufus braced his hands on either side of Tseng's hips; let his thumbs dig gently into the hollows of Tseng's hips, thoughtful motions. 'This President,' he went on after a minute in which Tseng managed to regain some of his sanity, 'decided that a dynasty was far more suitable to his purposes. The problem with dynasties, though, is that they really do have to be thoroughbred. Multiple partners made this difficult, so these partners had to disappear. Do you know what also happened the first year that the first of my father's partners first disappeared?'

Tseng leaned his head back and shut his eyes. 'Administrative Research was founded.'

'Full marks. Do you know who it was founded under?'

'I have no illusions who it was founded under.'

'And I'm sure that Veld had no illusions about how little -- or much -- good those partners of my father had done, whether to the company or to society, when he had them gently _banished_ from Midgar.'

Tseng opened his eyes and forced himself to look down. From between his legs, Rufus looked up at him. His mouth was red. 'On my part,' Rufus said, 'I was an excellent student of the sciences. I decided rather early on, though, after a tour or two through Hojo's idea of what laboratories ought to be, that the sciences weren't for me. I spent my first real company internship under Reeve Tuesti, who my father is an idiot to underestimate. I watched as Reeve made up plans for reactors that were rejected over and over again; they were too elaborate, too slow to build, too good for the environments that we wanted to harness.' Rufus moved up the length of the seat, coming up to brace his arms on either side of Tseng's head as he brought their foreheads together. 'I've sat at my father's feet and watched as good men get what they deserve, most often by way of the Turks. And now here I am, an unsuccessful usurper about to be delivered into your care for the duration of my likely interminable stay in Junon.' Rufus leaned in until his mouth was warm against Tseng's ear. 'Do you want to tell me what freedom I have to do good, Tseng?'

Tseng shrugged; the action pushed Rufus cheek against his own. Tseng felt a wetness against his skin. 'I'm not,' Tseng murmured very quietly, 'immune to the thought of what good or what evil can be done with great power, Rufus.'

'Obviously so,' Rufus said in the wavering voice of a brave young soldier. 'You're hard, aren't you?' 

'You're not bad looking,' Tseng said.

'I'm also the fucking - albeit powerless - Vice President of the world's biggest company.'

'Word choice,' Tseng clucked gently. 'May I move now?' he asked, but lifted his hand to the back of Rufus' head without waiting for permission. He felt as Rufus let his knees come down to rest on the seat on either side of Tseng's own. The wetness against Rufus' cheek wasn't abating. Tseng let him stay there for a minute, then two, then for much longer than that.

Twenty minutes later, Tseng dropped into the co-pilot's seat next to Reno.

'I'm guessing,' Reno commented, 'that whatever the fuck happened back there is not going to go on your mission report.'

'With great power comes great responsibility,' Tseng said, and wiped the salt of someone else's tears off his face with the other side of a used handkerchief.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Born from a prompt by Crimson-sun on Tumblr.


End file.
